Caligo Nata
by Seidhr
Summary: A single metal bead was all it took to change the course of Fate. 'Liz' Potter may not be a witch, but 'the power he knows not' may be even more unknown than anyone realized. F!Harry, Mistborn!Harry, Liz is 5 years older than BWL brother. Main arc begins in 1995.
1. A Whisper in the Mist

**As I noted in the summary, this is a twist on the abandoned fem!Harry genre, with the addition of elements from Brandon Sanderson's Mistborn series.  
I am doing my best to give the characters logical reasons for what they do, even and especially when they do the wrong thing.**

**I am uploading the first two chapters at once, and hopefully I will have at least finished the third chapter, something I'm pretty confident about as I wrote the other two in a week. The fourth chapter will be where the main arc begins, and where the real action starts.**

**James/Lily's generation were born in 1956 to make room for Liz to be born in 1975.**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 1: A Whisper in the Mist

October 30th, 1981

Near Ancient Doclea, north of modern day Podgorica, Montenegro

Mist filled the valley.

The Dark Lord Voldemort paused, forked tongue tasting the air. Even through the heavy fog that had descended this night, he could sense a difference to this place, perhaps a sign that he had found what he'd been searching these past few days for. A quick point me spell confirmed his suspicions; the entrance to Gaius Varius Leras' hidden study was in the crevice just ahead. It was cleverly concealed, with no visible indications of its presence and subtle wards, drawing on only the slightest amounts of ambient magic in their current dormant form. Only those with the most diligently honed magical senses would have noticed it against the background noise of the nearby leyline. It was little wonder it had lain undiscovered for well over one and a half millennia.

A brief thrill of excitement and superiority shot through him, as it always did when he discovered lost magic. To think that such things had laid forgotten for millennia, right under the noses of so many generations of wizards, waiting to be discovered by him, the greatest Dark Lord in history! As if fate had preserved magic's secrets for him alone... Fate... His mood soured quickly, thinking of the prophecy his servant, Severus, had relayed to him. A child, a snot-nosed, ignorant brat was supposed to defeat him? He, Voldemort, who had achieved immortality before he'd even reached adulthood, who had delved farther and deeper into the mysteries of Dark magic than anyone in history!?

"Ridiculous...", he harshly muttered, his magic brushing lightly over the hidden doorway, feeling out the structure of the defenses. He ran his hand across his pale scalp, a habit from his youth that he'd never been able to stop. He sometimes wished he'd been able to at least keep his hair, not to mention his nose, but such things were a trivial price for immortality. 'Blood wards tied to a three layer runic array, all powered by ambient magic... Innovative for its time, but now?' He sighed theatrically, slightly disappointed at the lack of a challenge, 'Time moves ever on.'

He slipped his magic between the runic layers and easily unraveled the wards. The rock wall revealed a multitude of cracks and rearranged itself into an archway, drawing a flicker of amusement from the dark wizard in remembrance of his first trip to Diagon Alley. His snake-like eyes, changed from his many experiments in the Dark Arts, could only just make out enough to confirm it was indeed a study in the gloom of the cavern.

A sharp flick of his wand summoned a small ball of light that hovered near the ceiling in front of him as he walked through the archway. A disordered mix of scrolls and books greeted him, but it was one in particular, lying open on the desk next to a small wooden box, which drew his attention immediately. The slight pulsing sensation which he had followed to the valley grew greatly in intensity as he walked toward the open journal, but he ignored it for the moment, quickly translating the text in front of him.

'... my fellow alchemists' efforts using the natural elements have thus far proved fruitless. I believe this is so not simply due to an incorrect process, but to incorrect theories altogether! The natural elements are corruptible and decay, and the Elixir of Life is inherently incompatible with such a notion. It is the rejection of mortality and the ravages of time! I believe that the universe thus develops according to the actions of two fundamental forces: Preservation and Ruin. As the natural elements are subject to Ruin, the Philosopher's Stone must therefore arise instead from pure Preservation. I have finally gathered the requisite materials for my ritual, and I shall begin my preparations for the solstice tomorrow. As the year reaches its apex, so shall I!

[June 23 350 AD]

A PEBBLE! Years of research, a fortune in securing materials, even willingly given Unicorn's blood! And all for a simple bead of metal! There must have been a flaw in my process, some missing ingredient that would have yielded something more than this, this little ball of condensed mist... I shall have to review my notes from the beginning. For now, I shall keep it as a reminder of the follies of haste.'

Voldemort scowled, fury rising inside him. 'Another dead-end. Just like every other lead...' He turned to leave when a small pulse brought his attention back to the box. 'Though perhaps not a complete waste,' he mused to himself, 'it may not be what I was looking for, but it certainly holds a power of some kind.' Pocketing the bead and a copy of the journal, he strode out of the archway and dispelled the light. With a casual flick he reset the wards and added a couple layers of his own on top, then apparated away.

Further insurance against mortality would have been prudent, but his trip had disproved the existence of anything more effective than his own Horcruxes, though he had found research which suggested that an attempt at further splitting his soul without first strengthening the existing connections might result in an unintentional Horcrux. He would have to look into ways to strengthen them later. For now, it was time to resolve the issue of the prophecy before it even began. How convenient that Wormtail had just been made the Potters' secret keeper. And Bella had undoubtedly gotten restless while he'd been gone.

* * *

October 31st 1981

Potter Family Cottage, Godric's Hollow

Dorea Potter nee Black smiled softly as she watched her six year old granddaughter play with her little brother. Little Edward, a little clone of her only son, giggled madly as he chased his sister Elizabeth, her nearly scarlet hair trailing behind her like a cape, around the living room on a toy broom. Lizzie shrieked in delight every time she was able to dance just out of his reach, no matter how cleverly Ed maneuvered. A squib, her granddaughter might be, but Dorea could see she would be something special, magic or not.

James and Lily had been disappointed, when Dumbledore confirmed their worries earlier that year. So far, due to the isolation the war had forced upon them no one outside the little circle of their closest friends and family knew of the children's existence, much less that Lizzie was a squib. In some ways it was a blessing, Dorea knew. Not only were they protected, but so long as their isolation lasted her granddaughter could grow up normally, unburdened by the prejudice and disdain Magical Britain held towards the non-magical.

She sighed quietly, hands combing through her graying hair. The stress of the war and the loss of her husband nine years earlier had taken their toll on the witch, aging her well beyond her years, etching worry lines and wrinkles across her face.

She glanced at the living room clock. James and Lily had been called away to a meeting of the Order, asking her to stay and watch the children for the short time they would be gone, a task she was only too happy to accept. It was getting late, far later than they had estimated; something serious must have happened to keep them so long.

"Alright Lizzie, Ed," she cheerfully called out, suppressing her unease, "It's time for bed!"

"Awww..." Elizabeth groaned, "but gran'ma I'm not tired yet... An' Ed's not either!" she argued as she picked her brother off his broom and held him to her chest.

Ed merely gave out a cheerful gurgle that could, under generous circumstances, be taken for agreement.

Elizabeth stuck out her bottom lip in a pout but handed Ed over to Dorea, and followed her grandmother upstairs to the nursery. She began to fidget and rub her hands worriedly as Dorea prepared Ed for the night. Once Ed was safely in his crib Elizabeth meekly spoke up.

"Gran'ma... Why aren't Mum and Dad home yet?" she murmured. Her parents had never been gone this long after they'd said they'd be back.

Dorea stilled, before smiling and whispering so as not to wake Ed, "They'll be back soon enough, don't you worry, darling. I'm sure they just-"

Her heart leapt into her throat as the front door banged open. "Stay here Elizabeth." She commanded sharply, opening the nursery door and peering down the stairwell. 'How could someone get past the wards without me even feeling the attempt!?' Cold, icy fear gripped her heart when she saw the snake-like features of Voldemort, his eyes sweeping the entryway. Her presence quickly drew his attention and a thin, evil grin cut across his face. Cold, rasping laughter filled the house as he walked slowly up the steps towards her.

Thoughts of protecting her grandchildren broke through the overwhelming fear that had gripped her, and she dashed into the nursery, throwing up a set of hasty wards on the door as she passed. She knew they wouldn't stop him for more than a handful of seconds, but if those few seconds could give her the time to save her children then it would be enough.

"Lizzie, into the wardrobe now!" she whispered frantically, eyes wide and darting about the room.

"What's goin-" Elizabeth began.

"Now! And don't come out until I say so!" Dorea urged, grabbing her granddaughter's shoulder and pushing her towards the wardrobe. Because Lizzie had no magical core, what Dorea was contemplating would never take and protect her. But Edward... She was desperate, but a memory of a book mentioning a certain piece of old magic rose unbidden in her mind. Her childhood was spent often sequestered in her family's library, but as she shied away from the questionably legal branches of magic her family specialized in but remained an extremely inquisitive child, she delved instead into... other magics.

As she set about laying the foundations of the blood protection onto Edward, she begged and prayed to the Fates and all her ancestors that this would work.

Elizabeth Lily Potter was an inquisitive, willful girl, not given to simply accepting orders or explanations without challenging them first. But tonight, the whispered urgency in her grandmother's voice, the tightly bound panic in her eyes silenced any thought but to obey. Huddled in the small wardrobe in the corner, she could just barely hear Dorea's hurried chanting from her brother's crib. She didn't understand what was going on, her grandmother had always been calm and composed, even when she distracted her mum and dad so the children could sneak some sweets from the kitchen, or play with James' favorite snitch. To see her grandmother in such a state terrified her.

A resounding boom echoed through the room as Dorea's wards gave way and the nursery door was shattered into splinters, drawing a whimper from Elizabeth which she instinctively smothered. An exchange of spellfire could be heard immediately after, and her grandmother cried out as a wand clattered against the floorboards. Cold, rasping laughter sent chills up her spine and she began shivering in terror.

"So, Potter and his Mudblood aren't here after all," hissed the stranger, "No matter, I'll enjoy seeing their faces when they find their son's corpse. That always brings out the most delicious of expressions," He finished with a dark chuckle. "Now stand aside, I do not wish to waste pure blood needlessly."

Dorea drew a shuddering breath. "No. You'll have to kill me first, you bastard!" She growled out in a surprisingly steady voice.

"Very well," the stranger answered coldly, "Avada Kedavra!"

* * *

Voldemort scowled at the child, not even sparing a glance at the old woman slumped in an awkward heap against the wall. The brat had started wailing as soon as he entered the room. He'd always hated the sound of children crying, but the thought of his impending victory brought a smirk to his inhuman face. His magical senses reflexively felt out the magic of the infant in front of him. It was... weaker than he'd expected. It was certainly stronger than average, but no feasible amount of growth could hope to make it powerful enough to match his own. Given that this was supposed to be the child prophesied to defeat him, he found himself almost insulted.

'Perhaps I was wrong, and the Longbottom boy is the one after all,' he mused, 'No sense leaving loose ends, though.' He lifted his wand to point between the eyes of the boy, who had suddenly quieted, the glowing green tip drawing his attention.

"Avada Kedavra!"

* * *

Lizzie tugged on her hair as she rocked back and forth, her knees drawn up to her chest. She had been trying to work up the courage to peek out of the wardrobe for several minutes. Ed had been crying ever since the man last spoke that unfamiliar incantation, yet no one had come to see what was wrong. Biting her lip, she slowly opened the door just a crack, enough to see her grandmother laying against the wall, apparently asleep, and a black cloak pooled in front of Ed's crib.

"Gran'ma?" She called out softly, hesitantly opening the door further and taking a step out of the wardrobe. "Gran'ma?" She repeated, the old floorboards creaking under her soft footsteps. Just as she noticed her grandmother's empty eyes, her foot got caught in the discarded cloak, sending her face first towards the floor, just barely able to bring her arms up to protect her face.

"Owwww..." she moaned, sitting up slowly, a glint of light drawing her attention as a little bead rolled to a stop in front of her. It was mesmerizing, her mind going blank except for the image of the little ball of perfection. Her arm reached out unbidden to pick it up, tingling warmth shooting up her arm as soon as she touched it. She swallowed it in the blink of an eye, her body moving under the control of some unknown force. Immediately, fire bloomed in her stomach, not a painful one but a good one, a great one, as if she was sitting in front of a grand fireplace, wrapped in layers of fuzzy blankets, feeling warmth for the first time.

Suddenly it stopped, leaving her filled with a feeling of emptiness and bitter cold, her mind returning to her in a flash.

"Lizzie! Ed!" her mother's fearful screams cut through her confusion. Frantic steps thudded up the stairway, and Lily dashed into the nursery, emerald eyes tearing up in relief when her children looked up at her. She scooped them both up into her arms, so caught up in checking for anything that might have been done to them that she never noticed what had happened to Dorea. James entered the room a second later, freezing in disbelief at the sight of his mother's crumpled form.

A strangled cry of grief tore its way out of him, anguish and denial warring inside him. "Mum!" He wept, dashing forward to cradle her limp body to his chest, her unseeing eyes staring emptily ahead.

There was no joy in being Fate's chosen.

* * *

The funeral was a small, hurried affair, without time for the respect and remembrances his mother deserved, James felt, but the chaos of the last few days meant that even though the war was technically over, they still could not afford such luxuries.

Wormtai- no, Pettigrew, fled on Halloween night, but not before attempting to pin the blame for his betrayal on Sirius, apparently believing that Voldemort had succeeded in killing him and Lily before falling against Edward. Thankfully, he had been there to clear Sirius' name; the DMLE was not very interested in due process at the moment. Their leader may have disappeared, but the Death Eaters were still mostly at large.

The Longbottoms, Frank and Alice, had been the Lestranges' most terrible demonstration of that reality. And now their son would grow up not only never knowing his parents, but with parents that would never know him.

He grimaced, looking at his mother's gravestone. She had been laid to rest right next to where his father had been buried nine years ago. The loss of his father at the end of his sixth year at Hogwarts had been traumatic, but he had been sixteen, nearly an adult, and capable of maturing and coping in time. Young Neville childhood would barely be worthy of the name, he had no doubt, being raised by the Dowager Longbottom and the few surviving members of the Longbottom family.

"James, my boy," the calm, but urgent voice of the Order's leader, Albus Dumbledore, drew him out of his thoughts, "I hate to be so crass as to interrupt you at such a delicate time, but there are urgent matters we must discuss, about your son's destiny." He turned to look at his old mentor, the aged wizard's eyes matching his voice in intent, robbed of their joyous glint by the burdens of the war.

"The prophecy?" James muttered. He wasn't entirely sure what to think about the damn thing. Voldemort was gone, yes, and at the hand of his own son, but so too was his mother. A selfish part of him was almost willing to accept the Dark Lord's continued existence if it meant his mother would still be alive. "It's over right? Voldemort is gone and so will the Death Eaters be soon enough."

Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I wish it were so, my boy, I truly do. But I have no doubt that we have not seen the last of him. He was always obsessed with immortality, and he always succeeded in anything he set his mind to. Well," he corrected himself, glancing over towards Lily who was holding Edward tightly within her arms, "almost everything. Regardless, I have read mentions of Dark and terrible magics to secure various forms of immortality, magics Voldemort would not hesitate to use. No, I fear that the war is far from over; we have simply been granted a brief respite."

Bile rose in James throat at the thought that his mother had truly died for nothing. 'No,' he viciously corrected himself, clenched fists causing his nails to bite into his palms, 'however long it lasts, it means we have time to prepare. Next time, that foul creature will die!'

"There is something else as well. The attack on dear Frank and Alice shows that even without their leader the Death Eaters are not to be underestimated. There is nothing I can do that will protect you and Lily any more than you already are, and there will be no hiding Edward, not when he must begin training to fulfill the prophecy as soon as he is able and when the people are already calling him the Boy-Who-Lived.

As for Elizabeth," he continued sadly, "she will forever be defenseless against even the weakest of magicals, and our enemies will not hesitate to target her to get at the rest of you. I am deeply sorry to ask you to make this decision so soon, but it is one you would have been forced to make eventually. The truth is that there is no place for squibs in the Magical world."

James' resolve faltered. He'd known this moment would come eventually, and it was often all he could do to keep the guilt from showing on his face when his daughter asked when she would get to go to Hogwarts. He'd just never imagined it would come so soon.

"No, Professor, I understand. I'll talk to Lily tonight, we'll decide where to send her."

"I told you before, James, call me Albus. And I know it's a hard decision, but I only want what's best for her. I'm sure everything will turn out fine, in the end."

* * *

January, 1982

Lily's emerald eyes swept the numerous roadsigns as she drove the rented sedan through Little Whinging, grateful that her parents had taught her to drive when she turned 16. Given what she was going to ask her estranged sister to do, it wouldn't be prudent to simply apparate onto her front lawn. Petunia had made her opinions on the Magical world quite known when they last spoke several years earlier.

The endless rows of identical houses disturbed Lily. It was nothing like the dizzying variety of Magical Britain, which, she supposed, was precisely the way Petunia liked it. Finally, her eyes registered the sign for Privet Drive ahead, and she released a relieved breath, the drive nearly over. It had been several years since she last drove, and she was not very experienced to begin with. She spared a glance at the mirror, watching her daughter in the back seat. Elizabeth head was swiveling back and forth, eyes wide in awe as the world sped by. Guilt threatened to overwhelm Lily for a moment, but she knew this was all for the best.

Number Four, Privet Drive was no different from any of the houses on the street, with the same neatly trimmed hedges and nondescript front. An ordinary, blue car sat in the ordinary driveway next to the ordinary lawn, in front of the ordinary house, all of which suited the Dursley's ordinary family. Surely, Lily thought, this would be the best place for her ordinary daughter to grow up. Petunia had said some rather.. colorful things t when they'd last spoken, but certainly she wasn't so petty as to extend her grudge to Elizabeth.

A few flickers of doubt rose in her mind, but were quickly squashed. This was the best choice, and Petunia had always been very family oriented, after all.

She ushered Elizabeth out of the car and walked the few steps to the front door, Lizzie's hand firmly bunched in Lily's coat. She was oblivious of the numerous confused glances her daughter was sending her, completely absorbed in thoughts of what Petunia might say. She rang the doorbell, quick shuffling able to be heard even through the thick door.

The door swung open, revealing the well practiced, polite aura of respectability which had been hurriedly plastered on her sister's face.

"You!" Petunia snarled, her face melting into a prideful sneer. "What are you doing here? Not content slumming around with freaks, now you're ruining the day of decent, respectable people?"

Lily restrained her instinctive response, temper threatening to rise. Years of dealing with the disdain and insults of prejudiced Purebloods had given her a great deal of practice in weathering scorn. "Petunia, please, I'm not here to fight. This is my daughter, Elizabeth. She's... she's a squib. I mean she's not magical," she added, seeing her sister's blank face. "May we come in?"

Petunia stared unnervingly at her sister for a moment before huffing and making way for them to enter.

"Lizzie, please wait here for a little while, Mommy has to talk with your Aunt Petunia. I'll be right back, ok?" Petunia walked to the den at the back of the house and sank into a massive, plush lounge chair. Lily sat tentatively in the couch opposite her sister, unsure how to begin. Silence stretched into awkwardness before Petunia softly spoke up.

"Why'd you bring her here? Surely you didn't expect some heart warming reunion just because she's my niece, or because she's not like you?"

Lily's mouth opened before closing in a muffled sigh. "No, I didn't. I'm here to ask you to do something for me. James and I knew we'd have to do this someday, it's just that some things have happened, and we have no choice but to do it now, and-"

"You're abandoning her, aren't you?" Petunia interrupted snidely. "Don't try to pretty it up, Lily, after all you were perfectly happy to abandon your family before, once you got that letter."

"I'm not abandoning her," Lily snapped, "and I'm not prettying it up! The truth is she has no place in our world, you of all people should know that."

Petunia glared hatefully at Lily before continuing on, ignoring the last part. "And why should I take her anyways? That is what you came to ask me to do, yes? Why not just drop her off at an orphanage if you're so willing to abandon your flesh and blood; I have no reason to call you family anymore, why should I be stuck raising your brat?"

This wasn't going at all like Lily had hoped it might, she'd hoped that her sister would feel at least some familial duty to Elizabeth but it seemed the distance between them had grown even more than she'd realized. Thankfully she was prepared for such an eventuality.

"I didn't want to do this, Petunia, but if that's how you feel then I have no choice." She whipped out her wand and cast a quick series of spells over her sister and her house.

"What did you just do?" Petunia shrieked as she cowered deep into her seat, blood draining from her face.

"A small, but powerful piece of magic. By inviting us into your house you accepted Elizabeth's guardianship, at least enough to satisfy the magical agreement." She was bluffing, of course, it was only a mild compulsion charm and some monitoring wards, but muggles seemed to think magic was capable of anything. "One way or another you were going to take her in as soon as we stepped into your house, I just wanted to give you a chance to make the right choice."

"Out! Get out you damn freak!" Petunia screamed, leaping up and stomping furiously over to Lily.

Lily turned and strode quickly out the door, happy to be done with Petunia. She was about to apparate back to Godric's Hollow, eager to see her son and husband after the stressful confrontation, when she remembered the rental car. She groaned and massaged her temples in frustration. She was not looking forward to driving on the motorways again.

* * *

Vernon had been furious, of course; the thought that the spawn of one of those unnatural, heathen freaks might corrupt his son and taint his house was almost too much to bear. For now, the inexplicable fear that gripped his wife whenever he suggested they just drop the chit off at an orphanage somewhere far away from Surrey stopped him from following through, but it was a very near thing.

That he learned of their new 'ward' after the day he'd had was certainly no help. The supplier of the ball bearings for Grunnings' drills had sent them an entire shipment of defective products, and, of course, as director of the company everyone had come to him to complain. He rolled one of the traitorous steel balls between his fingers as he watched the Potter whelp stand awkwardly next to Dudley and his toys. The bearings were made of poor quality steel which cracked after only a few hours of use, and more importantly he'd been the one to sign the agreement with the supplier, a fact that Grunnings' shareholders had been quick to point out.

"Girl!" he bellowed, throwing the bearing at the brat, like she was some manner of vermin. "Get away from my son, now!"

He turned to the files he'd spread out the table, trying to work out the best way to use the contract against the supplier. He hoped that they would be able to force a settlement for greater than revenues lost to get him back into the shareholders' good graces.

His head whipped around at the sound of the girl choking. 'Don't tell me the stupid brat tried to swallow it!?'

He burst out of his chair and charged towards her, thundering footsteps shaking the floor, arm reaching towards her. She looked up at him with terrified eyes unsure whether to be more afraid of choking or of him, and suddenly swallowed the ball completely. In a blink, Vernon, Dudley and every metal object nearby were sent flying in a sphere around Elizabeth.

A shriek heralded Petunia's return in time to see her husband and son be sent flying. Vernon quickly struggled to his feet, face turning purple in fury, as Elizabeth scrambled into the corner. "That's it! I won't tolerate a freak in my own home! I don't care what that freeloading bitch said, I'm not keeping her freak kid!"

Petunia simply nodded, eyes locked on her niece with a look of utter revulsion.

* * *

They had been driving for hours, and Lizzie had long lost track of where they were heading. Vernon was still muttering to himself in the driver's seat, hunched over the wheel and glancing furiously back at her every few minutes. She rubbed her wrist absently, still hurting a bit from when he'd grabbed her and dragged her to the car, a hint of bruising already evident.

Suddenly the car jerked to a stop. She looked up to see him staring at her through the mirror with a hateful expression.

"Out," he growled. She opened the door and tentatively stepped out. The tires squealed and the car leapt away as soon as she closed the door. She froze for a few minutes in shock. For the second time in a day she had been abandoned, tossed aside like trash. She collapsed onto the curb, weeping uncontrollably and feeling utterly alone.

Eventually she swallowed her sorrow long enough to take a look around her. Night had fallen over the unfamiliar city and she knew enough to understand she needed to find a place to stay. Looking behind her, she realized she had at least been dropped off in front of an orphanage, though it looked rather run down. She shivered, wishing again for the glowing warmth she had felt when she had seen those strange blue lines and Pushed everything away at the Dursley's house.

She knocked on the orphanage door several times before it was yanked open to reveal the scowling visage of an old woman who took one look at the weeping girl and muttered, "Oh bloody hell, not _another_ one." She sighed and took a long look at Elizabeth, 'Well, girl, best you come along then.'

Elizabeth had never been more unsure of anything in her young life, but she didn't really have a choice, after all.

Mist filled the city.

* * *

**A few notes on alterations I have made to the Mistborn magic systems:**

**-It is possible to be both a Mistborn and full Feruchemist at the same time.  
-Feruchemical storage density in metals has been significantly increased.-Several metals/alloys have been swapped out for others i.e. Cadmium for Titanium.  
-Allomantic effects of burning copper/bronze extend in some manner to Wizarding Magic, otherwise they would be entirely useless.  
-Enhancement metals will also affect magicals in some manner, though not exactly like copper/bronze.  
**

**If any of this confuses you, please google Allomancy and/or Feruchemy, but I am striving to include all the necessary information in the text itself**


	2. Black Holes and Revelations

Chapter 1: Black Holes and Revelations

February, 1982

Liz clutched at her stomach, its growling drawing glances from the other orphans around her. It had only taken a week for her to try to run away, though she hadn't gotten far before a pair of bobbies identified her as a runaway. The matron had been furious, grabbing her by the ear and calling her an ungrateful troublemaker before shoving her into the isolation room, which was little more than a cot shoved into a closet. She'd been let out the next day, but since then she was always served food last, and in portions that barely kept her from starving to death.

Cruel laughter drew her attention to a group of older boys farther down the table. She saw them staring at her out of the corner of her eye, instinctively hiding that she could hear them.

"Is that her, then? The one the matron is punishing? What'd she do to make the old hag so narked?"

"Tried to run off, I heard. Think the matron wouldn't really have minded that, if it weren't for her getting brought back by the bobbies. Doesn't look good for the matron, that."

"And she didn't even last a day out there? Probably just been ditched, that one."

"Too right. Anyways, mate, I was planning on heading to the dive down the street, if you slip the bartender a fiver he doesn't care how old you are, think we can nick enough to have a day of it?"

"Sounds right to me, what you think, the market square? That's always packed 'round lunch time. Easy as can be."

Liz tuned out the rest of their conversation and slipped quietly out of the room. Money. If she had money, she could eat. If she had money she didn't have to worry about starving her anymore, or wearing ratty clothes and ill-fitting shoes.

If she had money she could get away from here.

It took the better part of a month for Liz to get good enough at stealing to set about her plan. The first try had been an utter disaster. She'd tried to nick a couple apples from a market stall but she'd been far too obvious, she realized now, far too nervous and suspicious. Her hand had been caught before she ever touched the fruit, but she'd kicked the man in the bollocks and slipped away. She'd had to stay away from the square for a couple days, worried as she was about him recognizing her.

Thankfully, she'd quickly picked up on the skill and had been able to feed herself until the matron calmed down. It was pick-pocketing that gave her the most trouble, but thankfully a little six year old girl was not the most suspicious of characters. Though that didn't work on everyone, she'd done her fair share of running over the past month.

She didn't think about what her parents would say about her stealing. (Didn't want to, didn't need to, didn't think about her warm, soft bed, didn't think about her mother's cooking, her soft smile, about hugs or affection or people just being happy to see her.) If she did, she'd start crying, and the other children would think her weak and helpless, and she was tired of being weak and helpless, tired of crying.

The rest of the month was spent saving what she didn't spend on food. One look at her worn, ill-fitting clothes and shoes and people would know she was either poor or an orphan, and for this to work she couldn't be associated with either group. She'd learned her lesson after her initial savings had been stolen from the drawer in the table next to her bed. Now she stashed her money behind a loose brick in the wall behind the orphanage.

Now, having finally saved up enough money, she was dressed in a set of used but in good condition clothes, and a pair of well fitting trainers. It was critically important for her to blend into this crowd, not only to nick what she was looking for but also to use it. To be specific, she was looking for a train ticket. She'd initially tried just buying one, but the tellers had been too suspicious of a six year old girl on her own, and she bolted before things got messy.

Looking ahead, she spotted her mark. Walking towards the platform, the man was distracted by whatever he was writing in his notebook, but more importantly his ticket was loosely pinned along with a folded up newspaper to his torso by his elbow, easy as can be. It was almost anticlimactic when she pulled it loose with a quick tug and pocketed it in the blink of an eye, but she still had to get on the train without the ticket men getting suspicious. She was forced to wait until she found a suitable family, with children around her age who looked somewhat like her, and who were wearing clothes in similar condition to hers.

She slipped in behind them, hoping to look like she was just lagging behind a little. She knew it had worked when the ticket man merely glanced over her when he handed back the stub. Safely inside, she collapsed into her seat, giddy with relief and anticipation.

She looked out the window and noticed a coin had slipped into the gap between the glass and the frame. Her hoarding instincts which had developed over the past month saw her snatching it up immediately. She quickly realized it was a penny, a Canadian penny, and almost dropped it before she stopped in thought. The coin was... different, like her. She clutched it in her hand, deciding to keep it as a token of sorts, a mark of her new life.

As the train lurched into motion, she rubbed the coin thoughtfully, wishing she could just forget everything that had happened to her. Maybe this would be a chance to start anew.

* * *

Early October, 1986

Bill Weasley was, unlike many of his fellow fifth years at Hogwarts, happy and relatively relaxed. Certainly, it was his OWL year, but so far he was at the top of his class in the subjects required to become a curse-breaker, and he was no slouch at the others, too. Which was why he was calmly walking down the path to Hogsmeade today, and not holed up in the library, instead, studying for exams more than half a year away. He chuckled to himself, remembering how directionless he'd felt until he began studying Ancient Runes in his third year, how he suddenly knew he was going to become a curse-breaker and explore magical history in far away places.

He wondered if he'd run into Charlie, today, it was his younger brother's first chance to go to Hogsmeade, he'd be sure to be there. He'd probably head to Honeydukes first, Charlie was almost addicted to Cauldron Cakes.

A flash of scarlet red hair drew his attention to the alley next to Honeydukes. A trio of fourth and fifth year Slytherins had cornered a girl, the Hufflepuff metamorphmagus, he quickly realized when her hair shifted to pure white at something one of the boys said. He'd not taken much notice of her before, but he'd only seen her hair go that color once, during her Sorting before Professor McGonagall brought out the Hat. That was enough evidence of her fear for him to intervene, calling loudly, "And what do you three think you're doing?"

"Piss off, Weasley," the tallest Slytherin sneered, lackies flanking him, "we were just havin' a bit of fun with little Nympho here, nothing to do with you."

He glanced over at the girl, Nymphadora he thought her name was, whose hair had flushed red in fury again at the crude nickname. "She certainly doesn't look like shes having fun to me." The Slytherins reached for their wands, but Bill had his out and dug into the neck of the leader before they could even pull them out. "I think it's time you leave." He softly added, eyes drilling a hole through the snake.

At a gesture from the leader, the three slowly backed away from the eldest Weasley brother, glaring darkly at him all the while. When they were finally gone, he lowered his wand and asked, "You alright there? They didn't shake you up too bad, did they? Name's Bill Weasley, you're Nympha-"

"Tonks," she interrupted, clearly shaken but able to put up a strong front, "My name is Tonks."

"Ah, right, I guess it is." He finished, understanding why she might not be happy with her first name. "Well, Tonks, it's about lunchtime, would you like to join me at the Three Broomsticks?" He wanted to keep an eye on her to make sure the Slytherins didn't come back to bother her again. He was insanely protective of his little sister, Ginny, and seeing Tonks surrounded like that triggered his brotherly instincts.

"Oh yes please, that'd be wicked, could really do with some nosh right now," she grinned widely. The thought of those three coming back was weighing on her, and besides, Bill Weasley was a really dishy guy.

They slid into a small booth on the quieter side of the pub, nursing a couple Butterbeers and starting to relax again. Eventually, the quiet became too much for Bill.

"So, you like quidditch?"

Tonks' eyes lit up, hair returning to its usual pink. "Love it! I'm thinking of trying out as a beater next year. You follow any teams?"

"My youngest brother is becoming obsessed with the Chudley Cannons, but I've always been partial to Puddlemere United. How about you?"

"Harpies, full stop. Does my heart good to see a bunch of witches give the old boys' clubs a good kick in the nadgers."

From there the conversation flowed freely, thoughts of pushy Slytherins melting away in the warm glow of newfound friendship. Before they knew it, it was time to head back to the castle, and as they walked slowly back they shared their aspirations and what kinds of magic they enjoyed most, both thinking that they'd found something far better than sweets and Butterbeer in Hogsmeade that day.

* * *

"See reason, Albus!" James pleaded with his mentor. "We cannot hope to prepare for what is ahead if you simply disband the Order now!"

"The Order is a wartime organization, James," the wizened Headmaster shot back with a stern gaze. "It is meant to gather information to predict and respond to our enemies' attacks, not hunt them down or turn our members into an army."

James gaped at Dumbledore, shocked at what he was insinuating. "So you're just going to let them have false hope and go about their lives, knowing full well that He's still lurking out there? And I'm supposed to do what, exactly, twiddle my thumbs until he comes back to kill my son?"

"I am doing far more to prepare than I can tell you about just yet, and there are plenty of Death Eaters and other supporters still on the loose for you and your Auror colleagues to round up. In the mean time, I have managed to secure an exemption to the Restriction of Underage Sorcery for your son. He has already displayed a remarkable degree of accidental magic, and I believe starting him on his magical schooling now would be of great benefit."

James' face went blank, his voice cold, "So you're not willing to turn the Order into an army, but you're quite happy to do it to my son, is that it?"

"Given the unique threats he will have to face growing up, I think he will be safest if he is advanced for his age by the time he starts at Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, smoothly evading the question. "I have already arranged for some trustworthy individuals to tutor Edward. I'm certain you will ensure that his training occurs in a safe location."

James stormed out of the Headmaster's office, dark thoughts running through his head. Dumbledore was naive, nearly all the Death Eaters they captured were being let off by claiming they'd been Imperiused and bribing the Ministry under the table. Now Voldemort's supporters were worming their way back into positions of power, ready for their master's return.

If Dumbledore wasn't willing to stop them, he'd have to do it himself. And he knew of several others who would be very happy to help.

* * *

May 7th 1986 Middlesbrough, England

When she'd stepped off the train in Middlesbrough four years earlier, she'd been hoping for something better than what she'd left behind. The orphanage had been a shit-hole, yeah, filled with shitty people, but at least the roof didn't leak and they made sure she wouldn't starve.

'Speaking of,' she thought, her eye twitching when a drop of water hit her eyelid, 'Need to fix that.' A tarpaulin wasn't great for keeping out the rain, but it wasn't like she had time to take anything when she got run out of the last place she was squatting.

She curled in on herself a bit more, huddling as deep into the corner of the decrepit store. She thought it might have been a bakery, but she wasn't really sure, it wasn't like she knew much about that kind of stuff; the bobbies were a bit more concerned about her thieving than they were about ensuring she spent more than a handful of days in school in her entire life. She picked up a fragment of a mirror lying to her right, and observed the face that greeted her.

Dark hazel eyes full of suspicion stared out of a dirty face, framed by tangled damp locks. The grime and rain made it look a muddy, dark brown, but she knew if it was clean and dry it'd be a deep chestnut brown. She grimaced in disgust; normally she made sure to at least keep herself clean, but she had no towels or change of clothes, and certainly no fire. Even though it was raining she knew to stay inside and bear it, the first thing she learned living in the streets was how important it was to stay dry if you wanted to stay warm.

She blinked.

For a moment she had the strangest vision of green eyes staring out of her face instead, but as soon as she focused on it, it disappeared. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, twirling her necklace between her fingers, her lucky penny swinging back and forth on the end of the string. She'd had that problem ever since she arrived, black holes in her memory popping up every so often. Even the orphanage was fuzzy, and she had no idea what had happened before that.

She remembered her name, Liz, at least, but that was more because she had a vague memory of the matron calling her that, or something like it. She'd been bounced between a couple orphanages and foster homes in the city, when she first arrived, but she always escaped in a day or two, and it'd been over a year now since she was last caught at anything.

She was more than a little proud of that.

She angled the mirror down, taking in the baggy clothes she'd scrounged up the day before. She'd long since grown out of the last set of clothes she'd bought, the ones from the train ride, and had quickly realized clothes like these fit her needs better. They were big, so she didn't have to worry about growing out of them for a while, they were old, so none of the other homeless kids wanted them, and they were baggy, so with her short hair she actually looked like a boy. She shuddered a bit. That last part was really important. Sure, she was bloody scrawny, just a kid, but some men? Some men liked that even more.

She absently palmed the coin, fist held close to her chest. Today had been unusual in that it wasn't a group of older orphans or some gang who ran her off from her hideout as had always happened before. This one was a strange man, dressed in clothes that looked about to fall off and who looked like he had the lurgy. He took one look at her, and a manic grin spread across his face, full of gaping holes and yellow, crooked teeth.

'Well ain't you a pretty one, then. Oh, it's been so long since I had one like you,' he cackled, 'I bet you're a real screamer.'

He'd pulled out a long kitchen knife, then, staggering over towards her while she stood frozen, back against the wall. He started to raise the knife up, and in her panic she Pushed all of her Will against the knife. It leapt away from her, burying deep into the man's throat, faint blue glow still barely visible. She stood there in horror as he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut and suffocated in his own blood.

She'd fled, running as fast as she could, an endless litany tormenting her. 'I killed him I killed him I killed him it was me Oh God I'm a murderer I killed him!' echoing through her head until she finally collapsed in her current location earlier that day. She'd finally calmed down after an hour of retching and uncontrollable tears, at least enough to prepare for the storm that was about to roll in.

There'd been no witnesses, and even if there had been all they would have seen is him stabbing himself in the neck. She hadn't touched him, hadn't even made a single move, but she knew. She knew it was her, just like she knew it was her when that bobby suddenly decided to let her go, or when she'd slipped and fallen off a roof and got up without a scratch.

She wished she could forget she was a murderer.

A sharp, almost electric pain shot up her arm from where she was clutching the penny. That had certainly never happened before. She opened her fist, staring at the innocent looking penny, looking just the same as it always had. Hesitantly, she mentally prodded at it, almost like she had done earlier with her Will. There was a feeling of pressure, like something had filled it to bursting, and she lightly tugged at the feeling, puzzled.

It was like a floodgate had been thrown all the way open, a vast torrent of memories filling the holes in her mind. Bad memories.

'-izzie, into the wardro-' '-this is our place, bitch. What you thought it was yours just cause you was squatting in it?' '-ungrateful! I gave you a roof over your head and food to fill you up, and this is how you thank m-' 'Avada Kedavra!' '-orever be defenseless against even the weakest-' '-ou're abandoning her, aren't you?' '-have to kill me first, you bastard!' '-she has no place in our world-'

She remembered. She. remembered. everything. Rage flooded her, turning her vision red, an inhuman scream of betrayal tearing at her throat. They'd abandoned her, like she didn't even deserve to live! That bitch never even looked back! Thoughts of vengeance and making the monsters who'd condemned her to this life suffer consumed her.

'Don't you ever think that, Elizabeth Potter. It doesn't matter to me if you have magic or not, you'll always be my precious granddaughter, and I'll always be your grandma.'

The strength her rage gave her drained out of her, and she collapsed, numb and unsure what to think. An hour passed before the world swam back into focus, her mind feeling clear for the first time in her life.

Elizabeth Lily Potter was dead. She didn't know who she was, or who she could be; all she knew was that wasn't it. She rubbed the penny absent-mindedly. Perhaps those strange incidents might tell her more.

She no longer cared if she was dead to the Potters.

They were dead to her.

* * *

Late June 1987

"Mmmmm..." Bill groaned contentedly, reclining in the shade of a tree near the Black Lake, joints popping as he stretched. His O.W.L.s were finally over, and he was rather confident he'd done well in all of them, but it was great to be done with them.

An unladylike snort accompanied by raucous giggles alerted him to Tonks' arrival. She plopped down unceremoniously on the grass, leaning back against the tree. "They really that bad? Must be, to make the 'Great Bill Weasley' so tense," she joked good naturedly.

"Just you wait, Nym-Nym, I bet you'll be a sight when it's your turn, probably fall asleep halfway through," he retorted with a grin.

"Arse!" she flung a handful of grass at his face, tongue stuck out at the nickname, laughing victoriously as he began sputtering and trying to pull a couple pieces out of his mouth. "'Sides, you'll be doing your N.E.W.T.s then, remember? If anything, it'll be you, ya todger."

He grinned, lying back and relaxing again. After everything that happened, he was glad they were still friends, she was great fun, after all. They'd started dating about a month after, but had only lasted a month before they'd had, in Tonks' words, a 'stonking great row'. He'd made up a range of excuses for why he'd never tried to move the relationship beyond kissing and why he stopped her whenever she tried, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

In reality it was because deep down he'd become rather uncomfortable about dating a girl three years younger than him; it was just too big an age gap to bridge, not at this age at least, and the thought of what he'd do if it were someone else in his place and Ginny in Tonks' certainly didn't help. He'd put his foot in his mouth by finally telling her he thought dating her had been a mistake, and that had really set her off, hair and eyes turning blood red as she chewed him out for treating her like a child. Unfortunately she'd then had the entire Holiday break to stew in her anger and hurt.

The next three months had been terrible, filled with awkward encounters in the hall and her giving him the cold shoulder when they had to be in the same room. If things had stayed that way for the rest of the year, they'd have never been able to forgive and forget. Thankfully they were both a little too... hot headed for that.

April 3rd 1987

Bill tensed and sat lower in his seat, trying to avoid notice when Tonks walked into the Great Hall. In the past week it seemed she had decided giving him the cold shoulder was boring and had moved on to death glares, something she was quite good at. He'd never thought anyone could possibly have a glare that made him feel as low as his mother's, but Tonks had always loved to prove him wrong.

Of course today he was stupid enough to sit facing the Hufflepuff table, and between his height and his hair there was no force in the world that could stop people from noticing him; a fact that was reinforced when she took a seat directly across from him, in prime glaring territory.

Self-righteous frustration bubbled up in him. Hadn't he tried to apologize again and again, only to be ignored? Was she really that childish?

A pea bouncing off his forehead brought his attention back up from his plate. Tonks stared back at him, apparently torn between smirking triumphantly and continuing to glare at him. No, it appeared she was even more childish. He, of course, responded with two peas, and Tonks, never one to be outdone, doubled it again. They continued back and forth, drawing the attention of all those around them, until Bill saw Tonks grabbing an entire handful, decided 'in for a penny, in for a pound', flicked his wand sharply, and sent an entire bowl of mashed potatoes into her face.

Utter silence.

The entire Great Hall froze, gripped by the spectacle, the moment when the cold war between the two, which had long since been exhausted as gossip fodder, might actually develop into something juicy.

Bill thought to himself that he had never seen a more hilarious sight than the one in front of him: Tonks' grin twisted into horror, lumps of potato slowly sliding down her face, her hair flickering uncontrollably, the peas slipping out of her hand, now slack in shock. He fought valiantly for a moment, but the hilarity bubbling up from within him could not be contained. His raucous laughter rang out through the Hall, filled with snorts and other rather unflattering sounds. 'Merlin's saggy nuts,' he thought giddily, 'I've really bollocksed up now!'

A lump of mashed potatoes splatted across the side of his face in return. Tonks' signature snorting giggle quietly slipped out of her, despite her best efforts to stay angry, and quickly grew to echo throughout the Hall, joined by his own and that of everyone around them.

As Professor Snape stomped angrily towards them, their eyes met, communicating a sense of camaraderie regarding their imminent punishments.

Yeah, everything would be alright.

"So you have any idea what you might want to be after you graduate, Tonks?"

"Nah, haven't thought much about it," she answered, continuing in a mutter, "Not much good at anything anyways."

"What about being an Auror, I think you'd be brilliant at that."

"You're pulling my leg, right? I'm dead clumsy, and aren't they supposed to be good at everything or there abouts?"

"Don't sell yourself short, Tonks, you're more than smart enough to be a great Auror," he answered with a serious look.

"You really think so? Not just cause I'm a metamorph?" She asked a little timidly, perking up at his answering nod. "Huh... Auror Tonks... That's not bad."

* * *

Iron worked. She discovered that when she brushed her hand along an old wrought iron fence on her walk to find a new place to stay. She'd noticed a little 'zap', wondering how she'd never noticed it before. Suddenly she felt light as a feather, like one of those astronauts hopping around on the moon she'd seen in a shop window telly once. Drawing out from the iron, her weight reversed, soil giving way underneath her shoes for a moment before returning to normal.

Surprisingly, steel worked in a completely different way, something she'd discovered when she stole a small knife, wanting to be able to defend herself in the future. She'd realized then, a little daunted by the prospect, that it wasn't just pure metals that had effects, but also certain alloys. She'd made it her focus over the next few months to steal little bits of different metals, discovering along the way that some alloys of the same 'metal', such as bronze, had varying levels of effectiveness and wrong ones also gave her headaches.

She'd discovered that Tin stored whatever sense she wanted, Pewter, Zinc, Brass, Bronze, Gold, Electrum, Titanium, and Aluminium stored strength, thinking speed, warmth, wakefulness, health, determination, breath, and identity, respectively, a stonking great bunch of metals did jack shit, and some did things that she didn't understand.

One thing that puzzled her is that all these things were internal and balanced, they only affected her, and if she drew faster on a metal, she'd get a short, powerful spike in that attribute, but in total it was the same amount as she put in. None of these effects were external, none of them were like her Will, able to affect things around her. She tried to think back to the times she'd used her Will, but there was no cause, no source it just was. Always weak in effect, always painfully slow to build up. There'd never been a time like when she touched the metals, where there was suddenly a massive store of energy, nothi-

No. There was a time, a memory, old and fuzzy, but she'd had power beyond anything she'd ever felt. But what was the source!? It wasn't that she'd just stored it up for a while, there'd been nothing, nothing before that, a vast pool of power had simply bloomed in her mind when she stopped choking on that steel ball, when she'd swallo-

Her mouth fell open, eyes distant. Seriously? Seriously? That's was the secret, that was all she'd had to do? 'Here babe, swallow this, it'll give you intergalactic power, honest!' No wonder she'd never discovered the source, it wasn't like she went around stuffing strange things into her mouth. 'Not round here at least. Usually, those that do aren't far from starkers.' Maybe little bits of metal had flaked off into her food or water? It'd explain why she only ever built up such small amounts, the intake would be tiny and any amount she did get wouldn't stick around long, for obvious reasons.

Once she got over her shock and incredulity, though, she became incredibly excited; the possibilities were nearly endless! She knew that steel worked for both her powers, though with different effects, so maybe there was a connection, one that would at least give her some place to start.

Maybe iron? She had some flakes of it from earlier. She shrugged, thinking out loud, "Might as well. Cheers!" and swallowed the iron, washing it down with some of her water. She cackled gleefully as a well of power bloomed within her, 'touching' it and feeling a comfortable heat in her stomach. Instantly blue lines shot out towards various objects around her, all metal. She tried to push on the line connecting her to a coin on the table in front of her, but nothing happened. Confused for a moment, she realized that her other power had two directions, so maybe this one did too. Tugging lightly on it, she leaned forward in anticipation.

*THWACK*

'I am suddenly very glad no one was around to see this,' she thought as the coin dropped from her forehead to the table.


	3. The Passage of Years

**Wow, this one was a slog at parts, but thankfully the stage is finally set, and the _real_ story is about to begin!**

**I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 3: The Passage of Years

October 14 1987

"You pulling my leg? You fink I'd trust any job to a little chit like you?" 'Barmy' George snorted, scratching under his sweat stained shirt. "I wouldn't trust you to be able to find your way 'cross town, and you come in here saying you can do better work for me than my boys? I don't fink so."

She suppressed the swell of irritation at being talked down to by this has-been of a criminal. She hated people like this, who held even a little bit of power and thought that made them better than regular people. He was a pig of a man, but still, she needed money. There was only so much she could do to fuel her need for metals by stealing, and she was damn tired of sleeping in leaky, abandoned buildings anyways.

"Just give me a chance," she pleaded, swallowing her contempt, "I'm sure I can do something useful-"

He laughed crudely. "In a few years you could, yeah... I'm sure you'd make a lot of money for us then," he added, examining her features closely.

Liz jerked back in disgust, staring hatefully at the man. Fuck the money, it wasn't worth it if she had to work for this arseface.

"No? Then get the hell out, ya fokkin twat."

She stormed out of the beaten up pub 'Barmy' George liked to run his 'business' out of, stuffing her hands into her pockets and looking back out of the corner of her eye to make sure no one was following.

She'd not really wanted to go to someone like him for work, but there weren't exactly any legitimate options for her to make money at her age. Her need for high quality metals of specific mixtures and purities to fuel her abilities cost a hell of a lot more than what little she'd managed to save up, and the headaches caused by the wrong combinations were incredibly unpleasant.

So working for someone else was out, as was stealing from people on the street, unless she wanted to be detained at Her Majesty's pleasure. It was unfortunate, that, because thieving was really all she knew, as far as providing for herself was concerned.

She headed for a less shady side of town, the kind of place where she always went to make some money. She hadn't been caught in a long time, true, but if she was, the people there were less likely to beat the shit out of her for trying.

She'd been at her favorite spot, a small plaza in front of an old Anglican church, but for some reason it was rather empty that day, too empty to risk her normal method of pickpocketing. It seemed she'd have to dip into her small savings to eat tonight. Instead, she entertained herself by making faces at all the 'good, upstanding citizens', all dutifully avoiding meeting her eyes out of the fear they might accidentally think of her as an actual human being.

It always astonished her, the difference in their lives. Where she slept wrapped in scratchy, tattered blankets on rotting floors, stomach often empty, they had a home to call their own, with warm, soft beds and plenty to eat. So what if she took a little from their pockets, it made all the difference for her, and they had plenty of money.

Well, well. Maybe there was a way.

* * *

The house was squat and simple, with a well kept lawn and a modest car in good condition. It reminded her of the Dursleys'. She'd followed the couple who owned it after she overheard them talking about the terribly important local council dinner they were to attend tonight on their way out of the church.

Once she saw the glow of their car's taillights fade into the evening mists she crept silently around to the back of the house. The mist cloaked her, hiding her form from anyone who might otherwise see her through their windows. As she'd expected the doors and windows on the ground floor were all locked.

Tossing down a small coin, she burned both Iron and Steel, pushing on the coin and pulling on the metal frame of the window above her, quickly arcing towards it. She slammed into the frame with a muffled grunt, not expecting to move so fast, and flailed a bit until she managed to find a handhold to steady her. Liz paused for a minute, holding her breath and waiting to ensure the sound hadn't alerted anyone.

When no one came to investigate, she examined the window and the blue lines coming from the metal parts holding it shut. She grinned excitedly; unlike the windows below her, this one was held shut by a simple latch. Angling her body, she burned Iron and pushed lightly on the latch until it slowly moved clear and pulled the window open, wincing as the old hinges groaned. Every sound seemed magnified against the quiet of the night, but thankfully the mist seemed to dampen more than just the light.

She landed lightly on the wooden floor, burning Tin to see in the dark. She couldn't see anything valuable lying out, but the thick lines pointing to the dresser and some boxes on top told her there was something hidden. Pulling open one of the drawers which the largest number of lines lead to, she nearly gagged at the heavy smell of perfume that eminated from within. Did this woman even have a sense of smell, or did she really think this would help? Belatedly, she realized that the Tin was enhancing all her other senses, as well as sight, the grain of the wooden dresser rough beneath her fingers.

Pushing the woman's knickers out of the way, she found a small wooden box hidden underneath, revealing a stash of paper pounds and a number of valuable coins. She quickly dropped them into her well worn rucksack and moved on to the other drawers. She didn't find anything as good as the money in them, but the real treasure were the boxes on top of the dresser, which held the woman's jewelry collection.

She took a couple of the plainer gold rings, but unfortunately their owner ('previous owner') seemed uninterested in variety, and had nothing made of the more useful metals. The good news was someone was going to pay her a lot of money for the ones she didn't want.

The other rooms yielded nothing of interest, and though she found a small safe in the bedroom closet, she had no idea where to even begin getting it open, and lugging it through the city would be rather conspicuous, not to mention she had nowhere near enough Pewter to manage it.

No, what she'd managed already amounted to far more than she'd ever had before. She dropped out of the window, Pushing on the coin she'd dropped earlier to slow her down. Once on the ground, she quickly cleared out of the neighborhood, not wanting to push her luck. Now she just had to find some places to hock her goods and she could start looking into finding a better place to stay.

Maybe this time things would actually get better.

* * *

James' study in the Potter Family cottage in Godric's Hollow was a modest but comfortable place. There were a couple shelves behind his desk, lined with books, mostly Defense Against the Dark Arts or Quidditch related, the influence of his wife leading him to be better read than he otherwise might be. His desk was old and solid, made of good wood by good craftsmen, and James' in his typical fashion had covered it in a mess of parchment and open books. On one wall hung a portrait of his mother and father, painted shortly before Charlus' death, though at the moment they had wandered to other paintings in the house.

Sirius and Remus each sat in a plush chair, watching their old friend and fellow Marauder pacing back and forth, outlining his plan to strike against the Dark before their Lord could rise again.

"Albus wants us to simply wait and watch, he would squander our one chance to turn things around, the chance my mother died for. I have to watch, every day, as that slimy piece of dog shite Lucius Malfoy parades around the Ministry, bribing his way into power. The Imperius," he sneered, "If only all of the Death Eaters followed your cousin's example into Azkaban, Sirius, we might have been able to get rid of them forever. Unfortunately, Dumbledore let them go free at the slightest hint of 'renouncing' Voldemort, so it seems we'll have to do things the hard way if we want to end this war before it can start back up."

Sirius and Remus shared a long glance, both a little unsure about the rather menacing change in James lately.

"And what exactly is the 'hard way', James?" Sirius spoke up, asking the obvious question.

"I'm planning to speak to some like minded people in the Ministry, though I wanted to start with you two. First off, the one things I agree with Albus about is the need for information and connections throughout the Ministry, we just need to be more aggressive in our approach. We need to be able to track the Death Eaters, and to know when and where to hit them. We're still at war, the enemy is simply leaderless. This is the time to strike, while they are still disorganized!"

Sirius looked thoughtful, though Remus still looked unsure. "That's just the thing, James. Most of them are rich, powerful men, who've managed to get close to those high up in the Ministry, and those that aren't wouldn't be much use to Voldemort in the first place. I understand the need for doing something while we have the chance, but just how do you propose we go about this?"

James paused, leaning against his desk to look at his friends. "I agree, it's not something simple, but I do have some plans. We can't break into their houses, the wards protecting them are far beyond our power to take down alone. We have to draw them out, or take them out when they're somewhere public enough to catch them unprotected but quiet enough to not make a big scene."

"You mean murder them?" Remus accused, clearly uncomfortable with the prospect. The werewolf had spent his entire life trying to overcome his violent affliction, and now his friend was asking him to become a cold blooded killer? "I don't know if I can do that, James."

Remus stood from his chair and opened the door to leave. "Ever since your Voldemort tried to kill Edward, you've done things that I'd never thought you would even consider. We've been great friends for years, James, and I don't want to change that, but I just can't follow you in this," he finished sadly, closing the door behind him.

James stared after him, never having considered that either of his friends would disagree with his plan.

"I can't say I'm happy about it," Sirius said, breaking the silence after Remus' departure, "but I understand the need. I'm with you, James. And don't worry, I'll talk to Remus, he'll come around."

James nodded absently, grateful for Sirius' support and hoping he was right about Remus.

* * *

Pain. Years of agony and torment, little more than a wisp held together by will; a soul flayed apart, stretched out and pinned to the Earth by barbaric spikes. Slowly the will became an 'it', a thing carried by the wind, carried across the ocean. There it fed on the smallest of things, drawing energy from their deaths, and the 'it' became 'I'. From there it fled, away from the pain, the nameless fear.

In a forest, far from the pain, it bent a creature to it's will, and, having a body once more, it knew 'I am'. But the creature could not contain it, and was torn apart from within, and it moved on, bending more and larger creatures to its will.

Then, when enough had died, and months passed, he knew once more:

'I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.'

* * *

July 12th 1990, Leeds

House music thrummed throughout the club, deep bass drumming a beat in her chest, a swamp of sensations that stuck to her as she passed. The crowd stank of sweat and drink as she wove through them, flashing lights blurred by the smoke. The people here were nothing but scenery to her; today, she had a single goal in mind, a man she'd tracked to this club. He wasn't the kind of man she normally dealt with. When it was business, it normally involved dangerous men, men who had fingers in a lot of not-quite-legitimate pots.

This was just personal.

Liz stuck her hand into the pocket of her dark leather jacket and rolled a lead ball the size of a marble between her fingers, feeling the scoring she'd made, radiating from a pit on one side. It was a design she'd found very effective, one lifted from hollow-point bullets. It meant the ball would fragment inside the body, and since steel pushing at a close distance made very little sound it was an effective manner of assassination. Though in this case, it was more execution.

In the three years since she became discovered her powers and became a thief things had really changed for her. She ran her fingers through her messy, chin length hair, thinking of all the work she'd done in training her powers, and all the trial and error involved in finding the right alloys. Once she realized that it didn't matter how big the pieces of metal were for her allomancy, she started using metal powders stored in gel capsules instead.

These days she was branching out from just stealing, doing a variety of odd jobs like bounty hunting, or mercenary work if she could stomach working with the employer. It certainly meant she wasn't hurting for money now.

Aside from her jacket, she was dressed in a pair of comfortable battered dark jeans, a dark red tank top, and a pair of knee high combat boots. She wore several bracelets, rings, and necklaces for use by her feruchemy, though she tried to keep them from being too flashy. She also had a multitude of piercings, the metals consisting of most of those she never wanted to be without: Iron, Steel, Titanium, and Gold being the most important. There were four in her right ear, seven in her left, a tongue piercing, and a labret, along with three others in less visible places. A small smirk flitted across her face. Those had been the most fun to get.

She slowly made her way through the crowd, eyes surreptitiously following her target. Her caution was likely unnecessary, but it was a habit she wasn't interested in breaking. He wasn't even really anyone of note, but he had enough connections that no one turned him in for raping and beating a twelve year old orphan girl near to death in the process. Mary, her name was, one of the kids Liz tried to keep an eye on, remembering how it was to be in their place.

So tonight, she was 'Mary'. The sick bastard had buggered out of town the next day; she figured he must think he'd gotten away if he was comfortable being out in the open like this. She forced an inviting smile onto her face and relaxed her body language. She wanted to get close, wanted him to know it was 'Mary' who killed him.

"Bugger!" A voice cried out, a pink blur all Liz saw before a body crashed into hers. Her pewter enhanced body had been able to catch them both and keep her from falling over, but nothing would have been able to stop them from drawing attention. Thankfully her target didn't know her and had simply dismissed the sight.

"Wotcher! I love the piercings!" The pink haired missile had resolved itself into a young woman, maybe two years older than Liz. She seemed to remember what had just happened and backed up a step. "Oh, uh, sorry about that, I'm dead clumsy, name's Tonks, what's yours?" she fired off in a single go.

"Uh, Mary..." Liz answered absent mindedly, still focused on her mission.

"So, you from around here, Mary? I'd guess not, what with that accent of yours, somewhere Northeast England, right? I'm from just outside London, myself, finally allowed to ap- uh, drive, and just getting out and exploring, load of fun."

"No, I'm not from around here. I guess you could say I'm just a girl on vacation."

Tonks snorted, grinning widely, "Well all I can say is you need some help with that, what with how tense you are. Come on I know just what you need!"

An overwhelming scent of liquor assaulted her nose as her target stumbled over to them, completely plastered. 'Interesting,' Liz thought, 'looks like this time the prey is coming to me.' She quickly palmed the lead ball in anticipation.

"Ladeeshh!" he slurred, face stretched in a dopey grin. "Are you free tonight, or is it gonna cost me," he asked crudely, leering eyes running over both of them. The look of abject horror and disgust on Tonks' face would have been hilarious to Liz if one weren't currently twisting her own.

"Urgh!" Tonks choked out, almost overwhelmed by the stench. Liz could see the girl was about to do something, so she jumped into action.

"Listen, you fucking chav," she snarled, burning Pewter and twisting the arm he tried to grope her with behind his back, "we're not interested in a pig like you, so piss off!"

She placed her hand holding the lead ball flat against his back and shoved, burning Steel and Pushing it at the same time. The splitting of the blue line into dozens of smaller strands and the way her target fell flat on his face in front of her proved it had worked as intended, pulverizing his heart and lungs in an instant.

"Ah, piss," she groan theatrically, pulling him up and slinging his arm over her shoulder, her own arm covering the entrance wound. "I think this pig needs to sleep off his drink," she grinned towards Tonks, before sliding him into a nearby booth, his head lolling over onto his shoulder. She was grateful that the low light of the club allowed the blood to blend into her jacket. "It's been nice talking to you Tonks, but I think I've had enough of this place for one night," she grinned wryly at the other girl, wanting to leave before anyone realized he was dead and made the connection.

"Yeah, me too, mate. Wanna get something to eat? You're the only interesting person I've met in this whole city," Tonks asked hopefully.

Liz was stunned for a moment. Back in Middlesbrough people most people, well except the kids she looked out for, either dismissed her as homeless trash, or had heard rumors about her which scared them away. The kids regarded her with a kind of worshipful awe at times, so the thought that someone was actually interested in getting to know her was both enticing and terrifyingly strange.

She gaped for a second, caught off guard, "Oh, uh, what did you have in mind?"

"You like pizza?"

"Never had it."

Now it was Tonks' turn to gape in shock. "You're kidding right? Bloody hell, mate, we've gotta fix that now! Come on, I heard about a great place around the corner."

For once, Liz let herself be dragged along, caught up in the feeling of being treated like an actual human being.

* * *

August 1994

The Band of the Raven had made great strides in the past seven years. Though James was still a bit miffed about the name; he'd suggested the Griffon instead but had been outvoted. With his wife's help, they'd refined the concepts behind the Marauders Map to create a map of the known wizarding areas of Britain, and linked it to mirrors given to every member which alerted them whenever anyone on the black list entered the map.

They had members in all the important Ministry departments, and were working on recruiting more Aurors to their cause.

They'd been stymied in their efforts to neutralize known Death Eaters during this time, however. A couple lower level ones had been ambushed, but the inner circle members had realized what was going on immediately, and being so close to Minister Fudge, Lucius Malfoy had raised the alarm in the Wizengamot about some group killing 'upstanding members of wizarding society'.

What infuriated James the most, was how Dumbledore had done almost everything in his power to hinder them, often siding with Malfoy even. After the first time it happened, he'd fired Edward's tutors and arranged for members of the Band to teach him instead. He didn't want the old fool to have any control of his child.

He looked around the dueling hall that had been set up in their headquarters a few years earlier. He'd chosen one of the Potter family's country homes and placed it under the Fidelius, with himself as the secret keeper, keen on not making the same mistake as last time. It was rather empty that evening, the start of the next year at Hogwarts only a few days away. He himself would have liked to spend this time with his son, but he was busy, some of his agents had noticed a great deal of activity among the Dark families. After the last few years, he was certain that the second war was near.

He'd been furious when he found out that Edward had confronted a teacher possessed by Voldemort in his first year. Though he'd been proud of Ed's courage, he was certain that the incident had been no accident, that Dumbledore had not intervened in hopes of testing his son. He'd sat Ed down that summer and made sure he understood exactly what he'd done wrong. Thankfully, he'd given Ed the Marauder's Map before the next year, as the lesson hadn't quite sunk in.

Ed had noticed the Weasley girl's strange activities one night and set out to confront her. The nearby portraits had alerted the staff, and the girl was freed from possession before things could get out of hand. The next year had been blessedly uneventful. He hoped this year would be so, too, but if his instincts were to be trusted, it would be far worse.

He headed back to his study, intent on finding other ways to keep his child safe.

* * *

Kingsley Shacklebolt watched the two remaining Auror candidates as they made their way through the final test. More specifically, he watched the girl, Nymphadora Tonks, as she breezed through it, the other clearly destined to fail. He'd had a feeling she'd make it when he first saw her, it was something in her attitude, the defiance and optimism that mixed in her eyes like the colors of the sunset mixed in her hair when she-

Damn it! He slapped himself across the face, drawing strange looks from the other examiners. He was doing it again! He felt like a dirty old bastard whenever he thought about her. She was gorgeous, sure, but more important to him she was a wonderful person, quick-witted and cheerful.

He was sure, though, that she wasn't interested, and he was almost eight years her senior. Besides, he was one of her superiors in the Auror department and his strong morals made him balk at the thought.

He shook himself and focused on the test. Like he thought, Tonks had done incredibly well, more than well enough to catch old Mad-Eye's notice, the battle scarred Auror watching her progress intently. He wrote down his observations, such as they were, and walked over to congratulate Tonks on her performance.

The two had hit it off quite well from the start of her training, both feeling at ease around the other and becoming fast friends. He shook off his previous thoughts, relaxing into his normal calm but controlled manner.

"Well Tonks," his deep, reassuring voice carried through the room, drawing her attention, "I can't say I've ever seen a better showing in this test. Or as... interesting," he finished with a warm chuckle.

Tonks' hair flickered slightly before settling on her usual hot pink. "Oh, you mean where I transfigured Williams' robes into a bondage outfit?" She shot Kingsley a smug grin. "He was always a knob, Shack. Had to get him back for calling me a slag last week. And the look on his face!" She nearly fell over laughing.

Kinsley chuckled good naturedly. Officially speaking, he should probably reprimand her, but he quite agreed about Williams, and truthfully it was very effective. Though if that outfit was any indication, Tonks had some rather interesting knowledge.

He couldn't stop himself from wondering if she'd been the one wearing it or not. 'There's an image,' he thought, eye twitching.

"I'm heading to the showers, Shack. You guys aren't watching that part too, are you?" she called over her shoulder, an impish grin fixed on her face.

Merlin's beard, she was going to be the death of him.

* * *

March 25th 1995

Tonks soaked in the sight of Hogwarts' as she and Kingsley patrolled the corridors. She'd graduated three years ealier, and had been a full Auror for half a year, but once she set foot inside the castle, it was almost like she never left. Well, except for all the little biters running around, she swore they got smaller since she left.

"Focus," Kingsley reminded her warmly, "just have to swing by the Defense classroom and we'll be done for the day. I'm sure Mad-Eye would be happy to see us, though he'd never admit it."

Tonks glanced over at her partner. Now that was a fine specimen of man, all tall and strong, handsome too. She knew she could always count on him. 'Bit oblivious, though,' she thought, slightly frustrated. 'Maybe if I was a bit more blunt?'

Before she could test her new approach, they arrived at Mad-Eye's classroom. Kingsley knocked sharply on the door, expecting their mentor's voice, but hearing Dumbledore calling them in instead.

Mad-Eye and Dumbledore had turned to face them, Edward Potter sitting near them and looking miffed from whatever conversation the Auror pair had interrupted.

"Oh, Headmaster, Mad-Eye," Kingsley greeted apologetically, "I didn't mean to interrupt. We finished our patrol and thought we'd stop by, but I can see you're busy."

"Nonsense," Dumbledore replied, "Alastor and I were just finishing up with Edward, there's no need for you to leave."

"Wotcher, Mad-Eye!" Tonks called to her mentor and friend. "How's the leg?"

"The same way it's been for fifteen years, Tonks." He answered bluntly.

Tonks' instincts were screaming at her. Something was wrong with Moody, it wasn't anything obvious but the little things like how his eye swept the room or the way he sat were wrong, just wrong. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kingsley had noticed it too. Moody, paranoid bugger that he was, had forced them to memorize his body language so they'd always know if it was him or not, and that same training was telling them that this was an imposter.

Tonks and Kingsley had their wands out in a heartbeat, an opening chain of stunners and disarming spells sent flying at the Not-Moody. He was able to dodge and shield against almost all, but he wasn't as good as the real thing and Tonks' expelliarmus slipped under his shield. As soon as the wand left his hand he whipped out a knife, grabbed Edward's arm and tore a long gash in it.

"No!" Tonks shouted, throwing a banisher at him, but he grabbed something in his pocket and was whisked away by a portkey before it could connect.

Dumbledore had leapt up but was unsure who was the real threat until the imposter pulled out a knife. When Edward was injured he dashed forward, using a charm to check for poison in the wound and another to heal the cut when none was found.

"Point me Moody!" Tonks shouted out. Her wand swiveled slightly, pointing towards the Defense office at the back of the classroom. She kicked down the door and opened the trunk her wand was pointing to. "Mad-Eye!" She shouted worriedly, "Are you alright?"

"Well enough, considering, Nymphadora," he called back weakly.

"Don't call me Nymphadora!" Tonks choked out through relieved tears.

* * *

Little Hangleton

Voldemort breathed deeply, running his hands along his scalp for the first time in thirteen years. It was amazing how you missed the little things, he mused to himself. His red, slitted eyes snapped open.

"Wand," He ordered, his faithful servant Barty kneeling and presenting it to him with his remaining hand. He conjured a set of pitch black robes around himself, reveling in the feel of his magic once more. "Your arm, Barty," he hissed out.

"Yes, master," Barty answered obediently, extending his Dark Mark covered arm.

"Your other arm," Voldemort snapped. "You have been a most loyal servant, and I would not have you bleed to death." The Dark Lord conjured a silver hand to replace the one sacrificed and affixed it before stabbing his wand into the Dark Mark.

The graveyard quickly filled with the cracks of apparition as his free, 'loyal' Death Eaters answered his call.

"Thirteen years," he hissed pinning each one with his gaze, "and you still answer my call so quickly. My, my, I _am_ impressed."

* * *

**Re: Silently Watches: I completely agree about the accidental magic, and I'd love to see someone take that idea and run with it. The thing is, in this story Liz actually _is_ a squib when it comes to wizarding magic. I suppose I could make it unlock somehow, but she is both a Lerasium strength Mistborn and a full Feruchemist. There is only one other person who is both in the Mistborn canon, the Lord Ruler, and he is powerful enough to be thought of as a God and be called the Sliver of Infinity. So, no matter how cool it would be, I think she's strong enough as is.**

**Re: He-With-Many-Hyphens: Yep, it's straight from Muse, I was listening to the album when I finished up that chapter. As far as lemons go, I _highly_ doubt it. There'll be plenty of banging going on, and you'll know when it happens, but I'm not going to go into the mechanics, sorry.**

**Well, I am really glad to be done with this part. In future chapters I'll try not to skip around so much, but there were a lot of changes I wanted to establish, and I figure a three chapter 'prologue' is long enough.**

**Next chapter will hopefully be up by the end of next week.**


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